Every time that I hold you in my arms
I look at your eyes, I hear your voice
and I think about my life into pieces,
the payment for all I do for you.
I wonder “Why not finish
so much bitterness, so much pain?”
If next to you I have no future
why don’t I rip this love from my chest?

Why …
if you lie once,
if you lie another time
and you lie again…?
Why …
I embrace you again,
I kiss you again
even when you make me suffer?
I know
that your love is a wound,
it is the cross of my life
and my ruin.
Why
I’m tormented for you
and my anxiety for you
worsen each time? …
Why,
with the heart in pieces,
I cling to your arms,
if you don’t love me?

I can’t live like I live…
I know, I understand rightly
if with you all I get.
the bitter caress of your compassion …
But … Why I don’t cry
it’s all lies, your love is a lie
and why I need your love,
if in it I only find martyrdom and pain?